


i'll sell my heart to you, what's my price?

by awesomecharmander



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, but i thought this would be interesting?, i know christian probably has the mii theme playing in his head at all times, me? ignoring the 2nd and 3rd seasons of elite? it's more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecharmander/pseuds/awesomecharmander
Summary: Christian had a pretty face, and he was going to make the world reward him for it.Las Encinas had seemed like the first step.(He hadn’t known there would be no steps to take after that.)
Relationships: Carla Rosón Caleruega/Christian Varela Expósito/Polo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	i'll sell my heart to you, what's my price?

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from "Eric", by Mitski, because I am incapable of coming up with titles myself :')
> 
> Enjoy <3

Looking back, he had made his decision the second he had walked away from Samuel and the lake that held the missing piece that would have cleared his brother’s name. It had seemed the most natural course of action at the time: not rocking the boat, leaving Marina’s death and the trophy resting below the water’s surface unperturbed, instead of bringing about the chaos of several unspooling threads, gambit on top of gambit.

And, of course, he hadn’t been unbiased. His conflicting loyalties could have given the impression of it, could have hinted that the pulls from either side were of equal strength, and that therefore his inherent goodness would prevail, but that would have been an erroneous judgement.

No, the scales had been uneven from the start.

He had loved Nano. Truly. Nano had been the older brother he had never had, a partner in crime, even a mentor of sorts. He _had_ loved Nano. Still did, despite everything.

Despite his betrayal.

Yet he had always known, as did Nano, as did everyone who talked to him for more than five minutes, that he wanted _more_. More than what he was given, more than could be accomplished by “working hard” (and really, he didn’t understand how people could still believe _that_ hoax). Christian had a pretty face, and he was going to make the world reward him for it.

Las Encinas had seemed like the first step.

(He hadn’t known there would be no steps to take after that.)

*

“At last, he arrives,” Carla said, when she heard him walk through the door. As usual, she looked imperious, untouchable, and Christian found himself pondering whether she had possessed that certain _je ne sais quoi_ before she became an accomplice of murder, or if instead she had taken to crime in a rather splendid manner. He couldn’t tell. Guilt and fear of getting caught (and, in his worse moments, the tense excitement of _not_ getting caught) muddled his memories, compressed them until everything had seemingly happened at once.

Maybe he had always been a murderer ( _accomplice_ , his mind provided, though the distinction felt so small in the face of his sin), the same way everyone was a walking corpse, fate pulling them all towards their inevitable conclusions.

“Christian”, Polo murmured, reaching for his hand, given freely.

“I’m home.”

It was odd that of the three of them, the actual killer was the quietest. Or perhaps not — it seemed that all of Polo’s light had bled out of him in tune to Marina’s head wound.

“We were waiting for you to have dinner.” Carla fixed him with a pensive look. “You went there again, didn’t you?”

Christian sighed, letting himself sink into Polo, who had draped himself over his shoulders. He knew by now that Carla’s tone wasn’t accusatory: he had proved his loyalty, and she had incorporated him into her inner circle.

“Yeah, I did. I don’t know, going to the lake and knowing it’s there, but not even being able to pin down _where_ , it… puts me at ease, somehow.”

Rolling his shoulders, Christian sat down at the table, Polo’s hands still gently on him. Where had his cat-like fluidity gone? It had been part of his charm, once upon a time, and he could still muster an echo of it while playing his part of the carefree fool, but his muscles were all tight, coiled things when the mask was shrugged off.

Carla moved, squeezing his hand in passing before taking her seat in front of him, and Polo followed her lead, leaning down and kissing his cheek, almost shyly, before settling beside him.

Christian didn’t know if their affection made it better or worse, though it certainly made it easier. Easier to pretend. To forget.

The money and business opportunities offered to him had helped solidify his stance, naturally, but more and more he found himself embarrassed at them. They made all of it feel… _transactional_.

(Which it had been. He had sold his friend in order to live among the elite, and no amount of sugarcoating could ever erase that fact.)

“So, I was thinking of asking my father for the yacht this summer. I think we need some time away, just the three of us.” Clara’s tone was light, as if they needed a break due to school stress, and not the fact that one of them had bashed Marina’s skull open and the other two had helped him get away with it. “Christian, darling, you’ve never been on a yacht before, have you?”

A half-there smile. “No, but I’ve a feeling that I’ll take to it like a fish to water.”

“That’s what we like to hear.”

The conversation then subsided, the sounds of cutlery filling the silence, though not for long. Carla worked hard to prevent their moments together from turning into somber, stilted affairs, and Christian was more than willing to humor her. (Wasn’t that what had gotten him into this mess in the first place?) Polo chimed in once or twice, though he had not been particularly talkative even before everything had gone wrong.

Did he love them?

Christian couldn’t say. Sometimes, when they were all curled up in bed and the sunlight filtering through the curtains hit just right, he could see himself doing it. Staying by their side, old bonds forgotten in favor of these new, dangerous, bewitching ones.

But then he would go back to the lake, and the enormity of what they’d done would jolt him awake from his soft stupor, bitterness spreading through his veins and poisoning his heart.

Perhaps that was why he stayed. They had ruined him now — there was no part of him free of corruption, no limb he could cut off to be whole again. And they understood, and loved him despite, no, _because_ of it. Because he was selfish in his ambition, and that was understandable, excusable. That made him like them.

And honestly, where was he supposed to go? Back to his pathetic, mundane _before_? To _mediocrity?_ No way. Christian had always known he was meant for higher standing. Sure, it had happened with a little more blood than he’d intended, but he had arrived, hadn’t he?

Sure, one of his closest friends was rotting in a prison cell somewhere, but Christian himself was going on a yacht trip this summer, right?

After all, he had always known, as did Nano, as did everyone who talked to him for more than five minutes, that he wanted _more_.


End file.
